To Catch the Wind
by skauble
Summary: Trapped in a world not her own, Chloe's best way back to all she knows lies in the hands of a man whose hardened heart allows for no disciples, no allies, and no love.


**Spoilers:** Up to Season 9 - Disciple and then the story goes my way. So forget whatever came after that ep.

**A/N: **I posted this in a forum, back in April 2010, under the title "Worlds Apart". So if it seems familiar then you probably read it there with that name. But since I'm close to finishing the second chapter, I figured I'd post this one now.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_2012_

It was an odd feeling for Chloe – hating technology. After all, she lived and breathed it and had done so even before she took on the role of Watchtower. But today? She hated technology…and physics…and scientists…and pretty much the world. Although that last one had just become twice as much effort as it had been the day before.

Looking up at the towering building that housed the main headquarters for Queen Industries, she felt exhaustion weighing her down. She'd had just enough money on her to buy a bus ticket from Metropolis to Star City, but the trip, on top of everything else, had been grueling. And she knew that having to now face Oliver Queen was going to deplete every last reserve that she had.

Once again she railed at fate. When the head of one of the Queen Industries research and development teams based in Metropolis informed Oliver that their project had produced some unexpected results, he had asked her to tag along for the return to the city that had originally housed the League's headquarters. Although not a scientist, Chloe knew that she spoke geek far better than Oliver did and agreed to go if only to satisfy the curiosity that never had never gone away, even though she was no longer a journalist.

They'd headed over to the laboratory as soon as the jet had touched down and hadn't been there for more than ten minutes before computers had started screeching out warnings and people in white coats began panicking in a manner that was in no way reassuring. Suddenly, the deep noise of a machine drawing in power had sounded off to the side of where she'd been going over the schematics for the project, followed so quickly by a blinding light that she'd had no time to remove herself from what she hadn't even known was a danger zone.

The next thing she knew, she was in the same building that housed the labs that she'd been standing in moments before, but the floor she was on was completely empty. A small amount of investigating had shown that that was true for over half of building's levels. And what may have been even more disturbing was the ones that were occupied were not filled with Queen Industries' employees.

Her mind had quickly come up with enough explanations for what might have happened that it truly brought home how utterly bizarre her life was. But as she exited the building and found herself on the still overwhelmingly familiar streets of Metropolis, the project papers that she had managed to examine began to make more sense, and she had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what had happened -

The machine had, as theorized, opened some kind of door to another world and fate had apparently shoved her through it.

A trip to the thankfully nearby Metropolis City Library had yielded a wealth of unwelcome information about a world she didn't know. The one thing that she was incredibly grateful for was the fact that, although there were clear differences, there were far more commonalities between her reality and the one into which she'd been thrust.

With a minimal amount of researching she was able to establish that she was still working at The Daily Planet. And although she'd left that particular dream behind her when she'd embraced her life as Watchtower, she couldn't help the burst of pride at the successful journalist she'd become. It soothed a deep and private ache inside of her where she had begun to doubt an essential part of her identity under Grant Gabriel's ridicule during his short lived turn as editor and then her subsequent firing by Lex. Seeing that it had truly been the events of her life and not her inability to succeed that had led her out of journalism gave her a sense of closure she hadn't realized she needed.

The rest of the Metropolis update left her equally heartened and afraid. Apparently Clark had still followed his destiny and become Superman. That was definitely of the good.

However, his chief nemesis seemed to be the all too living Lex Luthor. Which was not of the good. In fact it was so far away from the reassuring end of the "What Have I Gotten Myself Into Now" scale that she was fairly relieved to find that the Oliver of this was universe far, far away in Star City. More than that, the reported exploits of the "Avenging Archer" let her know that Clark wasn't the only one who'd found his place in the world.

Oliver's location was also consistent with her world. Although the Justice League had held down the fort in Metropolis while Clark left to train in his fortress, once he had returned and the city had embraced Superman, Oliver moved the team's headquarters back to the city that he still considered home.

It was a blessing and a curse as, on the one hand, it got her away from Lex's radar, but on the other, Oliver was half a country away, she was fairly certain that her credit cards wouldn't work and, although she was fortunate enough to have had her purse still slung over her shoulder at the time of the accident, she had a very limited amount of cash which she wasn't completely certain was similar enough to the currency used there to be of any help.

But in her first piece of luck that day, it had been passable and covered the bus ticket that had brought her to her current location.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe squared her shoulders and entered the lobby that was comfortingly familiar with its sleek glass and gleaming marble. There was a security desk located discreetly to the left of the large receptionist's desk and in front of the lobby's stairwell access, but they merely observed the comings and goings in case of problems. The actual security measures were built into the elevator system which required a key card swipe from everyone who entered before it would begin its ascent.

Luckily Oliver had been clever enough to build in a manual bypass to the system, knowing that there would be times that he would want to come and go without leaving an electronic record. So she had waited until the lobby had emptied out, crossed quickly to the elevator and opened the hidden panel that revealed a small keypad, blocking the action with her body. In her world Oliver's code had been complex, but based on letters and dates that had been important in his parent's lives. The fact that his parents had also died in this world gave her hope that it would be the same.

As the doors slid open and accepted her floor choice with no further demands, Chloe gave a sigh of relief. Feeling the elevator rise, she again pondered the wisdom of her choice in confronting Oliver at his office as opposed to his home. But although she knew that gaining entrance to his home would most likely have been easier and there would certainly be less chance of interruptions, she still believed that it would seem too personal and threatening to break into his penthouse. If this Oliver was anything like her own, the control he'd feel in his office would be greater than in his private space and so he'd be more likely to listen…she hoped.

Exiting the elevator, she smiled to see the familiar face of Oliver's secretary, Monica. However, that smile faltered at the slightly suspicious look that crossed the woman's face. Remembering that she was in an outfit that she'd worn both flying to Metropolis and then taking a bus back to Star City, she didn't blame her for wondering what possible business the underdressed and incredibly rumpled person approaching her could have with Oliver Queen.

"Can I help you?"

Cool but professional. Chloe had to admire the undertones that had been added to such a courteous question.

"I need to see Mr. Queen." Chloe knew it was a pointless request, but she figured she'd give it a go before she started in on her actual plan, which was basically making such a scene that Oliver would be unable to resist investigating.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. But it's extremely important that I speak with him." Closer and closer to a humiliating yet necessary outburst.

"Do you work here, Miss…?"

"Christina Bryant," she said, feeling no need to ruin her counterpart's life by tying Chloe Sullivan to the oncoming public tantrum. "And I'm afraid that I don't. But it's imperative that I see him."

"Well, Miss. Bryant, I would like to know how, without either an appointment or an employee ID, you managed to access this floor."

And so it began. Chloe winced at the thought of what her father would say about the spectacle she was about to cause.

"Please," she said, her voice rising. "I have to see Mr. Queen."

"If you don't leave, Miss Bryant, I'll be forced to call security."

"You don't understand, it's a matter of life and death," her voice held a tremor of fear that Chloe was all too aware was not entirely fake.

And just as she began to doubt the wisdom of her plan, the large doors behind the desk opened and there stood Oliver. Of course, it wasn't her Oliver, but the face was so familiar and far too deeply missed for the small time they'd been apart that she suddenly keenly felt the desperation of her situation.

"Mr. Queen," she rushed out before the call to security could be placed. "You don't know me and I know that I'm asking a lot, but I _have_ to speak with you. Everything I have depends on it."

She knew that he had no reason to trust her. Indeed, he had every reason not to; Oliver was no stranger to scheming women. But she also knew that she was practically vibrating with impending panic and he seemed to recognize the genuine nature of her distress. She'd gambled everything on the hero that was Ollie's true identity, and he didn't let her down.

"No need for security, Monica. Let me have a few minutes with…" he trailed off, waiting for her name.

"Christina Bryant."

"Let me have a few minutes with Miss Bryant before we decide on a course of action."

Although not particularly happy with the result, his secretary complied with a simple nod and replaced the receiver before turning back to her computer.

Moving past the desk, Chloe walked to where Oliver was waiting. Although he was clearly going to give her a chance to explain herself, she wasn't reassured by the hard look in the deep brown eyes that she was used to seeing filled with warmth. But regardless of the harshness that surrounded him like an aura, she felt the worst of her anxiety easing. She didn't care what world they were in, she believed in this man. He wouldn't send her away without help.

oooooo

Oliver was nearly out of his mind, and if the looks he was receiving could be trusted, that wasn't solely his opinion.

Chloe was gone.

One minute they'd been standing in a Queen Industries lab and the next the place was hitting defcon 1. He hadn't known earlier what the growing sound in the room meant, but from the expressions of those who did, he'd known that it wasn't anything good. Without conscious thought he turned towards Chloe who was across the room going over the designs of the device they'd been called in to review. But before he could take more than two steps in her direction, the room began shaking and there was a sudden explosion of light. By the time it dimmed enough to let them see, the one thing he was looking for had vanished.

Turning, he'd grabbed the nearest scientist by the lapels of his white lab coat and lifted him nearly off of his feet, demanding to know what had happened. The explanation almost made him wish he hadn't.

An alternate universe. They'd managed to open the doorway to another reality and instead of immediately closing down the project until the ramifications could be considered and protocol could be developed, they blithely carried on tinkering with breaking natural laws for which they in no way understood the consequences. And the fact that their ignorance had cost him Chloe left him feeling the nearly overwhelming need to share his pain in a very physical manner.

But he had managed to restrain himself…barely. It was only the knowledge that Emil was on his way that held him back. As enraged as he was, he knew that the people before him were his best shot at getting the woman who had slowly become the greatest friend he'd ever had back where she belonged – with him. And while he didn't trust any of them in the least, he understood that he'd need them to pass on whatever information they had to Emil; a man he'd trust with his life…and Chloe's.

When he'd called the team and told them what had happened, even those without superspeed arrived in an almost impossibly short amount of time. And if the researchers working on what they called Project 417 had been shaking in the face of his wrath, it was nothing compared to the cowering they did upon encountering the rage of five men who took the protection of the woman they'd lost with the same seriousness with which they guarded the safety of the world.

It had been AC who had managed to calm the rest of them down enough to avert bloodshed; reminding the team that there was no one in the world more capable than Chloe Sullivan and that, if the theory the scientists had manage to put together since the detour that the project took was correct, the passageway that they managed to open would be to a universe directly bordering their own. And apparently the closer two universes were to each other, the more they were alike.

They all understood that they were dealing with far more guesswork than facts; a situation that they'd dearly wished was reversed. But it was all that they had – the hope that things were similar enough that even if Chloe couldn't find a way back on her side, she'd at least be able to find them. And they could only pray that their counterparts, should they exist, had the same heroic tendencies and wouldn't turn their missing teammate away.

oooooo

Chloe couldn't believe that he was going to send her away without helping. Sure, she sounded insane, but that didn't mean that he shouldn't believe her. She knew that he had the same leather proclivities wherever she was that he did back where she'd come from; what kind of hero didn't even investigate to be certain that they weren't turning away someone who was genuinely in need.

Well, if he thought she would go quietly, or at all, he was very sadly mistaken. Oliver once told her that amassing information was her superpower. Well, what one Oliver appreciated the other was going to rue forcing her to bust out on him.

"It's funny," she told him as he turned back towards his computer, clearly intending to underscore his dismissal of her.

"Believe me," he replied. "If I have to call security, you won't think so."

She laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. "I meant that it was odd that a man who dons green leather every night and fights dangers that most people couldn't even conceive of is so quickly writing me off as a crackpot."

She had to hand it to him; he hid his start of surprise admirably. But she'd known Oliver for far too long not to pick up the subtle clues to his emotions, and as surly as this one was, he was remarkably similar to her Oliver in some ways.

"If you think that wild accusations are going to make me less likely to have you escorted from the building, you're more disturbed than I first thought," he told her dryly.

Laughing, Chloe shook her head. "You're good. If you didn't do that tiny twitching thing with your left eye I'd have believed you. Of course," she mused, "a side effect of the whole super hero thing is a general improvement in concealing the truth from people. Well, except for one guy I know. He's still terrible at it."

And Oliver couldn't help responding. This odd woman who'd stormed his office and demanded his help for a problem involving technology that his company hadn't developed, truly did seem to know something about him. While he was far from prepared to accept the idea that it was because she knew an alternate version of him, it no longer seemed prudent to simply let her walk away before he knew more about how much information she had and what she was planning to do with it.

"I'm not going to tell anyone."

The fact that she really did seem to possess some kind of ability to read him so well bothered him. If her story actually was true and she knew another version of him then it had to be a very weak alternative. The relationship she implied was far closer than anything he allowed himself. The work he did was important; far too important to be compromised by the time and energy consumed by personal entanglements. Isolation was simply a byproduct of his calling - a calling that there seemed little point in continuing to deny.

Oliver had equipped his office had two separate scanners that swept for bugs and recording equipment at regular intervals, setting off a special ring on his cell phone should any be found. Since no alert had come in the time she'd been there, he was fairly certain that she wasn't there to obtain a confession of his nightly activities.

"And I should simply take your word for that," he asked bitingly, settling back in his chair with crossed arms, giving her his undivided attention once again.

"Probably not," she conceded with a shrug, ignoring his cutting tone. "But in my world I've been keeping secrets much bigger than this for more years than you'd think. You and those like you are necessary. You do more for the world than people will ever know; but the little bit they are aware of gives them hope, let's them believe in a better future."

Oliver was taken aback by the passionate conviction in her voice. Whoever she was, wherever she was from, there was no doubting her sincere belief in what he was doing. And again he wondered at the foolishness of this possible other self. Sharing himself with others, having their approval, their support was not a luxury he could afford. Already he was feeling far more exposed than he had in years and he was quick to focus their discussion in a different direction.

"That's the second time that you've mentioned other people like me. Do you deal with that many people who share this particular pursuit of justice," he asked with actual interest, despite his intent to redirect the conversation.

"Actually, it's pretty much my job," she confided, nodding.

"And I'm part of this group," the disbelief in his tone making it clear what he thought of the notion.

An ironic smile tilted her lips as she replied, "If by "part" you mean that you lead it, then yes."

"Impossible." His denial was cold and absolute. "I have no allies."

Leaning forward with a look of menace on her face she declared, "If you just followed that up in your head with "no lovers and no disciples" I might just risk never getting home to kick your leather wearing, loner ass."

This time there was no hiding the surprise on Oliver's face.

"Oh, you're kidding me," Chloe exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "I seriously fell into a universe where you're still caught up in that Vordigan crap?"

"How do you know about that?" The words were like ice.

Practically jumping out of her seat, Chloe began pacing in agitation. "Haven't you been listening? I know you! And, yeah, clearly some things are different here, but some things are alike. And of course, with my luck, it's your idiot antisocial tendencies that are the same."

"Hey," he snapped, not necessarily disagreeing with her conclusions but not appreciating the way that she expressed them. "I left that life years ago."

"Great," she said, flopping tiredly back into the chair. "So you ditched the insane mentor and kept the idiotic mindset. I guess it's better than nothing. But not much," she grumbled, shooting him a glare.

"Is this usually how you get me to do things," Oliver ground out once her tirade seemed to have wound down.

Another glare shot his way before Chloe shrugged, admitting, "No. Usually I just tell you what to do and you're smart enough to do it…You really make me miss you."

Although he pushed the impulse down, the fact that he'd almost genuinely smiled at her rather cute expression of indignation was a strange feeling. As was the fact that for the first time since she'd stormed the building he actually believed her. Because if anyone could possibly, in some version of reality, make him do something that he hadn't been intending to do beforehand, he was fairly certain it would be this tiny, blonde force of nature.

"Look," Chloe sighed, exhaustion fast catching up with her. "How about this. You call your scientists. If they aren't working on a project similar to the one that landed me here then I'll go. I won't bother you again and you absolutely don't have to worry about your secret. I'd never do anything to hurt you in any reality."

"And you'd risk any chance of enlisting my aid all on one phone call," he asked. "What if this is one of the things that are different in this world?"

Waving away that concern she told him, "If you don't have access to the technology that landed me here then I'm kind of screwed anyway and there's no point in hanging around and trying to force you to help. Besides, the best you would be able to do is offer to develop the device that I'd need and I think that we can both agree that if this universe has avoided that information then it's clearly for the best that they continue to do so."

"So you'll just stay?" The disbelief was clear in his voice.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I have one other option. But I really, really don't want to explore it unless it becomes absolutely necessary. If I hit a dead end here then I'll have no other choice, but I have a bad feeling that I'd be exchanging one huge, nearly insurmountable problem for something worse. And you probably don't think that's possible, but that's either because you don't know the me from this world or because the me here got the good universe."

And sadly it was true. She'd thought about both locating her other self or finding Clark when she had first realized what seemed to have happened. But she was unsure of the wisdom of interacting with herself and, although she loved Clark, ever since she'd learned of his uninvited trip down her memory lane a few years before, she'd had some trust issues with both him – which they were working on – and Jor-El – which she was addressing by refusing to go anywhere near the AI unless actual lives depended on it.

So she'd try using the fortress to get her back if she had no possible other choice, but just the thought of it was making her feel sick.

Oliver didn't know what backup plan she was considering, but he found that he was oddly disturbed by the slightly frightened look that it put on her face. Whatever it was that would cause such hesitation from a woman who appeared to take being thrown into an alternate universe with an unbelievable amount of calm and determination was something he found himself somewhat reluctant to make her face.

After all, though she didn't really know him, he was honestly beginning to believe that she knew a version of him. And while he couldn't allow the distraction that her brand of caring would certainly cause, the fact that an Oliver Queen out there somewhere had it was unquestionable. It was something he could never have, was better off without, and yet it seemed like it would almost be a betrayal of himself not to help her if what she was saying was the truth.

"Okay," he told her, reaching for his phone. "I'll make the call."

oooooo

Oliver sat in the dark, his head in his hands. He'd pursued every avenue of information, started every possible ball rolling to get Chloe back. It had only been two days, but it might as well have been two years given the ache he felt at her absence. He couldn't count the times that he'd turned, expecting her to be there, or reached for the phone, expecting her to answer his call. It was like reliving her disappearance over and over again.

He looked at the glass of scotch on the table in front of him. Although he'd poured it hoping to dim some of the fear and pain he was feeling, he couldn't bring himself to take even a sip. He knew all too well that he had a tendency to bury himself in alcohol when things hurt so badly that he wasn't sure that he could go on. The fact that he hadn't felt a loss like this since his parents' deaths made him more than certain that the slippery slope was one drink away. And that, combined with knowledge that Chloe needed him to stay focused, had him leaving the glass untouched; because sliding down that slope this time could cost more than he could bear to pay.

The entire team was devastated, but he couldn't help but think how proud Chloe would be of the way that they'd been holding each other up. In fact, he was certain that it was only his talk with Victor that afternoon that was currently keeping him sane.

"_Ollie," Victor had called out. "If it was you who had disappeared, do you think that Chloe would find you, bring you back?"_

"_Absolutely." The response was immediate and void of any doubt._

"_Then you have to believe that she's capable of getting herself back," he reasoned. "And with everyone here working just as hard, Chloe will be with us again in no time."_

The thing that no one understood and that he was hesitant to voice was that he knew exactly where Chloe would start her efforts to return – with whatever version of him might exist in the world in which she found herself. And as much as he wanted to believe that he, in any form, would help her, he just couldn't be sure. It wasn't exactly a secret that he'd had far too many periods of self-centered interludes in his life. What if he refused to believe her? Worse, what if he did believe her and simply refused to help?

A part of him understood that there was still the possibility that she would have Clark to turn to, no matter how much she would loathe doing so. And she was more than capable of gaining access to any technology and research that might exist about project 417 if the scientists were correct and that world did closely resemble this one.

But another part of him was scared. He'd never had someone like Chloe in his life. He'd never felt the love and caring that he did from her in something as important as his less and less frequent crises of faith or in something as simple as the way that she called him first for even the smallest of noteworthy events in her day. She was in every part of the best aspects of his life and he worried that dealing with an Oliver who might embody all of the potential he had to be hurtful and destructive might make her see him differently, no matter how much she understood that they were two different people.

But with the oblivion of alcohol denied to him, all Oliver could do was cling to hope that wherever she was she making some progress, either with or without his help, in getting back to him. But if she wasn't, it wouldn't matter; because there was nowhere Chloe could go, in the whole of existence, that he wouldn't find her.


End file.
